by Vivian Wood
I had to turn my body and force myself to walk up the drive to the house instead, then through the tacked on garage and into the kitchen. Mom had braids of garlic from her garden still hanging from the high exposed beams, still in the exact same places. I could hear their voices - Claire, Finn, Gabe - off in the living room, so I snuck to the staircase via the dining room and went upstairs to the first room in the hall.
From the center of the braided rug, an ancient yellow lump lifted his head.
"Duke," I exhaled, kneeling down to stroke his gray muzzle. "Jesus, dude. You're still hanging on?"
Duke King, the world's best dog, thumped his tail twice before lowering his big head to the floor with a huffing sneeze. He was ancient and gray-faced and by the smell of him was already starting to decompose while still alive. But he was here. Uncle Gid used to call him the sixth King kid.
The grief hit me like a slow rolling wave. Gid's death. The estrangement. The silence as greeting instead of hugs and backslaps.
I sat down heavily on the rug and reached out to scratch Duke's ears. We'd gotten Duke the week before the talent show that had changed our lives. Before we knew anything about how we'd be on the road more often than not. He was supposed to be our companion, but we'd abandoned him almost the moment we got him, and he'd stayed here with Claire and my parents. And now he was old and fading. It was depressing to think that his lifespan was also the lifespan of the King Brothers' career.
But that was self-pitying bullshit, though. I was still working. I was still punching the clock on stage every damn day. Of course, two night's ago, I had bombed more badly than I'd ever bombed before. So badly I could still hear the boos in my head. But even that was still working. Technically.
I was still a rock star. I was just feeling sorry for myself because the one member of my family who still seemed to like me was dead and the other one was close to it.
"You hold down the fort, Duke," I told my dog. Voices were drifting upstairs. The wake had begin.
Life in Crown Creek revolved around casseroles. Church dinner? Casserole. Potluck supper? Casserole. Someone's family member dies and you don't know what to do and also are super nosey about whether their famous son will show up for the funeral?
Casseroles for days.
I could smell a mix of canned soup and cheese from all the way up here. Hastily I wiped my eyes, lest some neighbor came up here in search of a bathroom and caught me on the floor. With one last pat of Duke's giant head, I headed back downstairs.
In the kitchen, my mother was kissing cheeks with Sheila Foster from next-door. The young woman hanging back on her heels, arms predictably laden down with casseroles, had to be Everly Foster, who I remembered as best as a big-eyed girl staring at me from under too-long bangs.
Always staring. Even though she'd done some growing in the past few years, I recoginized Everly by the way she stared at me open-mouthed as I entered the room. Just like how she'd peeped at me through the bushes when I came home from touring years ago. She'd grown in age, not in subtlety.
"Hi Jonah," she squeaked.
I smiled as best I could. "Let me get those," I told her, retrieving the casseroles before she pitched them to the ground in terror and ran away.
She lifted her face as I got closer to her, a fierce light in her eyes. "I'm sorry about your Uncle Gid," she said, clearly and slowly, like she'd been rehearsing. "He was a great teacher."
I blinked, remembering that Uncle Gideon had been teaching at the elementary school for the past ten years. Everly would have had him when he first started.
A strange tightness clenched around my heart. I'd always thought of Gid as my own personal refuge. When I came home, I'd make a beeline down to the shed and bask in his singular attention. He supported me the way no one else could. When I'd come home after a rough tour, it was like sitting in the warm glow of a fire after months spent in the bitter cold.
It never occurred to me that others might have been warmed by that same fire and I wasn't sure how I felt about it at all. "I'm sure he was," I said to Everly, shooting her a grin.
The fierce light went out of her eyes. She made a small squeaking sound before snatching the casserole out of my hand and shoving it into the fridge.
The house was filling up now. Everywhere I turned, there was another familiar face. The number of lines on the faces had changed, as well as hair color and amount, but I knew them. These people were the background to my life. The B roll.
Being home again felt like the last twelve years had never happened. I almost expected to look down and see knobby knees and too big feet, to see arms still covered in peach fuzz. I kept feeling like I had to shake my head to keep reality from sliding sideways into memory. Shaking my head to keep all that had happened straight in my mind. I was home, yes. But everything about it had changed.
It was hard enough remembering that just standing in this kitchen, so familiar it was part of my DNA. It was even harder as the same little vignettes played out around me like projections of my memories.
Out in the driveway, Chuck Andolino, my dad's buddy from high school shop class, had cornered my father and now both of them were staring at my rental car like it had offended them. Chuck's wife was in here hustling my mother out of the kitchen and loading up the freezer for her. My sister's friends flew by in a flutter of whispers and I glanced up, wondering if Ruby was with them, and then looked back down, oddly disappointed when it turned out she wasn't.
Ruby. She didn't feel like a memory. Something about that hug, that new haircut of hers that made her eyes look impossibly big, felt like the present. She felt brand new, and that was weird because I'd known her since she was six years old.
I wondered where the heck she was. It might be nice to start over again with her. That hug had felt pretty damn good.
"Hi Jonah!" A teenaged girl, probably one of the Hanovers based on the amount of freckles she had, suddenly blocked my path.
"Hi there," I paused and let her supply her name.
Which she did with a breathless gasp. "Andie," she interjected. "I'm sorry about your uncle."
"Thank you."
"I know it's probably not the right time," she started.
I took a deep breath. "No, what can I do for you?"
"It's just, you're never home any more..." I winced. Inwardly. "And I didn't know when I was going to get another chance..."
I tried not to show any expression as she shoved the poster and marker at me. I'd been asked for autographs in weirder places, but my uncle's wake was definitely up there. "Sure," I said, signing my name with a flourish.
Andie peer critically at it. "Could you write my name too? Andie. A-n-d-i-e."
I looked up at her and as I did I caught Gabe staring at me. His expression was halfway between rage and resignation, but when I caught his eye the rage took over. "What's with you?" I wanted to know as I finished signing the poster.
As soon as I said it, I realized those were the first words I'd said to him face to face since last Christmas. Half of me wished I could stuff them back into my mouth and try again.
But Gabe had heard them. He lifted his chin at me as he folded his arms. "You're unbelievable."
"What?" I glanced at Andie over in the corner, staring at her picture with a predatory look in her eyes. She was definitely going to sell it on Ebay. "I was being nice. You wanted me to tell her to piss off?"
Gabe's lip curled. My brother had bulked up since our lean touring days, packed on some muscle around the shoulders and arms. His face was different too. Harder. Less open. Getting his heart stomped on by the girl he thought he was going to marry could have something to do with it, but that didn't explain all the hate I saw in his eyes. "It's a funeral, you asswipe."
"It's actually considered a wake now," I corrected. "And I was doing something nice. She's a fan."
"You can't turn it off, can you?" Gabe spat. "Not even now."
I spread my hands. "Should I have done what you do and tell her to go fuck her
self?"
"Nah, Andie's a sweet girl. A bit intense, but nice. You wouldn't know that though."
"You're right, I wouldn't. So you'd have signed the autograph too, then." Fighting with Gabe felt like pressing on a bruise. I felt nauseous and spun around, hurt and confusion and righteous anger all fighting to be the top feeling. "Don't get all high and mighty. You're just pissed she came to me!"
Gabe snorted. "You really think I haven't signed all her memorabilia already? I was in that band too you know."
"Oh I know." I rolled my eyes sarcastically. "Believe me. Until you ended it over a girl."
I hadn't meant to bring it up. Really I hadn't. It was a funeral after all, this wasn't the time or the place to have this out. But Gabe's selective memory about how the break up happened pissed me off. He needed to remember that I wasn't the one in the wrong.
Two years ago, Gabe was off the rails - high on pills and drunk on love with a gold-digging hellspawn. He wanted to marry her for some reason, but when he went to propose, he found her down on her knees, blowing our manager. Walked right in on the both of them.
He broke up with her, of course. That was obviously the right thing to do.
But then he took it a step further and broke up our band.
To this day I don't understand why he did that. Or why Beau and Finn took his side. I told them all it was a huge fucking mistake, but they didn't listen to me. Arguments lapsed into silent treatment - phone calls unreturned, emails never opened. I knew he was pissed at me for some reason, but the way I figured it, he was the one who'd fucked up, not me. Throwing away ten years of hustle and hard work over a girl was the stupidest thing he could ever do, and I told him as much last Christmas.
We'd said more to each other in the past five minutes than we had the whole year prior.
His nostrils flared. "Fuck this shit," he muttered under his breath. He yanked his leather jacket off the banister and threw it over his shoulders.
"Gabriel?" My mother was coming into the living room, but Gabe was already out the door.
She whirled in a circle. "What did you do?" she asked me, already frantic.
Heat spread in my belly. I shouldn't have come. I should have sent flowers and stayed away. "Nothing," I spat. "I didn't do a damn thing."
"He can't..." My mother trailed off and I could feel the worry rising off her in waves. Gabe rushing off in anger had her instantly on the alert. The months spent dealing with him after the breakup of the band - getting him sober, getting him off the pills our shithead manager had gotten him hooked on - all that had fallen to my mom because he wasn't ready to listen to his older brother.
But I could try to make him listen now. "Don't worry, Ma. I'll go get him."
I ran out after him, the November chill raising goosebumps on my bare arms. Gabe was at the turn-out where he kept his bike. I shouted for him, but he kicked the motor to life, intentionally drowning me out.
"Hey!" I shouted, breaking out into a run, suddenly ready to tackle him to the ground. Fuck the heart to heart my mom was hoping for. My fists itched for a fight. "Get back here!"
Gabe twisted the throttle and roared out of the drive. "Hey!" I shouted again, this time panicked as I saw the figure picking its way up the gravel. At the last second, Gabe swerved, maneuvering into the ditch that banked the drive and then shooting back across into the road.
"Jesus!" Ruby cried.
I rushed over to her. Gabe had showered gravel in her direction, but she looked less hurt than pissed. "You okay?" I asked, glaring at Gabe's retreating bike.
Ruby leaned down and wiped the dirt off her legs. "Guess you guys still aren't talking, huh? Where the fuck is he going?"
"I was trying to find that out myself." She looked at me and shifted a vase of flowers in her arms, and without thinking I grabbed it. "I got that," I told her. "You coming inside?"
"Yeah, that was the plan," she exhaled.
I looked down at her, all panting and pissed off, and couldn't help myself. "You're late."
Instantly her dark eyes snapped. "Shut up."
"I shouldn't let you in," I said, dancing from side to side, directly in her path.
"Really?" She watched my feet for a moment, then tried to run around me. I blocked her and she huffed in irritation.
I knew I was being a dick, but I was spoiling for a fight. I was working as hard as I could but this was turning into a disaster just like the other night onstage. The tension, Gabe's reaction, the suffocating feeling of being here with no Gid to escape to. I could almost hear boos in my head again.
I wanted to shout at someone until things felt right again, until I was back in control, back on top where I belonged. And since Ruby seemed like she was hell bent on hating me today, she was the likeliest candidate get a win off of. "Can't let you in, sorry!" I jeered, raising the pitch of my voice to match hers.
She put her hands on her hips and glared up at me. "Nope, you're late," I teased, shaking my head.
A wicked glint darkened her eyes. I paused.
I'd never seen that look from her before.
And before I knew what was happening, she was reaching up, her arms around my neck.
"It's okay," she murmured as she yanked me down to her in a fierce, almost aggressive hug. She patted my back. "I know it's hard."
I was too stunned to move, and I almost dropped the vase out of sheer surprise. Her cheek was soft and she smelled like baby powder, and her voice in my ear was like the gentlest kiss. As she hugged me tight, I actually felt myself relaxing for the first time this whole awful day.
Until she patted me again. "Thanks," she jeered, in a low voice that sounded like a mocking impression of mine. "I think I needed that."
And with that she darted around me and into the house.
I stood there reeling, with no idea what the fuck had just happened, but the boos in my head suddenly switched to applause.
Chapter Four
Ruby
My email was up on my classroom computer. Three notes from parents and a faculty wide announcement were all waiting for my responses. But I was just staring at the screen, my finger hovering over my mouse. Frozen in place.
Gid wasn't in the music room right now. I could feel his absence like a missing tooth, and I couldn't keep my mind from probing that aching, empty space. He wasn't there. He wasn't going to be in the break room later with my coffee already poured and ready. He wasn't here in the school with me. He was ashes in an urn.
The last email Gideon has sent me was dated six days ago. And as I read and re-read it, I kept waiting for the tears to come, but they seemed to have all dried up, leaving only that physical ache.
It didn't seem fair that the last note I got from my mentor wasn't even spelled right. I could tell he was dashing it off real quickly, in a hurry to head out and get home. "Gonna be playing the Crown Tavern Sat. If your not busy, come cheer an old man on."
Too much of a hurry. This email was sent the day he died. He never played that show.
Half of me was filled with sorrow to see a ghost in my inbox. The other half was filled with anger that his last words to me were so mundane. He had no idea that he was going to die. It was as much of a surprise to him as it was to all of us that he hit that icy patch on Whalen Station Road. One single car, alone on the highway, wrapped around a telephone pole.
He hadn't hit anyone else, he hadn't hurt anyone's property or anything on his way out, but he did manage to knock out cable for the whole west side of town. He would have like that, I think. More of a fitting tribute than the fussy urn Izzy had picked out.
I clicked on the email and dragged it over to the side, into a folder marked "Save." I never looked through that folder. I just felt comforted knowing that it was there. That my digital memories sat ready for me to run through them, whenever I felt brave enough to venture into them once more. Until then, I'd keep them safe.
A soft knock startled me out of my funk. I looked up to see Madison Keely with her perpetually running nos
e staring across the top of my desk. Which meant that...
"Good morning," her father said softly.
I sat up straighter, smoothing my hand down my skirt and trying to find my smile.
Luke Keely stood in the doorway, smiling back. His light eyes looked bleary, but his ruddy face was cheerful enough.
He was also wearing a red shirt today. A red shirt to go with his red face. Totally the wrong color for him. I smiled for a moment as Claire's loud, drunken manifesto from our last girls' night played out in my head. And they expect us to dress all cute while most of them have no more fashion sense than a toddler!
Jonah definitely knows how to dress though. That thought popped into my head, buzzing around like an annoying mosquito. I reminded myself that a stylist most likely chose his clothes for him, but there was no denying he wore them well.
Poor Luke. You could tell he didn't have a wife at home to act as a stylist for him.
And the way he acted around me, I could tell he was hoping to change that problem. "Morning Maddy!" I cooed to his daughter. "Could you go hang your stuff in your cubby?"
She nodded, all solemn big eyes. "And let's wipe that nose, okay honey?" I told her, handing her a tissue.
"Right," Luke said, patting his pockets. "I never remember to pack Kleenex. Her mom always had them in her purse because she - "
"It's fine," I said, cutting him off before he could launch into the spiel about his ex. Madison's mother apparently was in league with the Devil himself, to hear Luke tell it. I wasn't exactly sure how to tell him that shit-talking about his ex did not make me eager to accept his offers to take me out for drinks after work.
Luckily Luke was quick on the uptake. "Sorry we're a little early today. Maddy decided that four thirty eight was a good time for us to be up and at 'em."
Maybe other schools, in bigger towns, had closed door policies. Maybe other schools in bigger towns had organized drop-off and pick-up times where parents couldn't just wander into the school at all hours and chat up the teachers. But Crown Creek Primary was not that kind of school.